


Who Said We're Playing Fair?

by Silicu (silmil)



Category: One Piece
Genre: Ace is a bit obsessed, Akuma no Mi | Devil Fruit, Canon Compliant, Fire, Fluff and Mush, M/M, Marco considers taking people on a flight a viable seduction technique
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 10:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4259991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silmil/pseuds/Silicu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Ace lays his eyes on Marco's flames, he's <em>lost</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Who Said We're Playing Fair?

**Author's Note:**

> This is technically my fill for the 1st Day of [MarcoAce Week 2](http://deer-head-xiris.tumblr.com/post/118649606810/marcoace-week-2), Fire, but since I didn't know i was happening until too late I'm posting it very late. 
> 
> It's a very old work of mine back from FFnet, but I decided to edit it and re-post it here. It ended up less of an edit, and more of a re-write, though. I don't think I have even 10 sentences from the original left in there!

Ace leaned against the railing of the ship, movements slow and careful as to not stretch his back too much. He ran an absentminded hand over the fresh bandages that covered his torso. It had been quite a while since any injury had lingered long enough to require bandages and the feel of them was almost unfamiliar. Foreign.

Of course, there was no real injury to speak of, now. All they did was cover the fresh tattoo on his back. The nurses said it'd take some time for it to heal, so he better be careful with it.

Which had been a stupid thing to say, because, hello, he had a tattoo already, or did no one look at his arm? Sure, it wasn't nearly as big and flashy, and ok, he’d had it done before he ate the Devil Fruit, but…

Fuck. Ace still felt a bit guilty for the burns on the tattooist’s hands. He had done his best to keep his ability in check, but the instincts he had developed were hard to force down. Pain was another thing that he’d grown unused to, and while he’d been reacquainted with it lately, this was different. It wasn’t sharp and breath-stealing like the old man’s punches, or dull and numbing like sinking into the sea, but a long steadily continuous irritation that had worn his endurance down to the breaking point.

And that had amounted to a few hours of excruciatingly difficult work on both sides that had Ace seriously reconsidering ever having anything else drawn on him. Ever. Again.

Maybe that was a good idea. He found he liked the thought of this being the last permanent mark on his body.

Because now it was done. It was there, on his skin, stretching over most of his back. Impressive and unmistakable and such a damn clear message to the rest of the world that one had to be completely retarded not to understand.

Whitebeard's flag. His claim, his name, his image. Ace was a part of that entity that was the Whitebeard Pirates, now. He was one of them. One of his sons.

It was close to a day now, since he’d stood in front of the man’s gigantic throne-like chair on the deck, and with a head held high he’d said:

_'Let me become your son.'_

Like it was what he’d wanted from the very beginning. Maybe it was. Ace wasn’t one for self-reflection – he tried not to overthink his own intentions too much, but he was certain that under all the hatred, there had always been a part of him that mourned the fact he’d never be able to claim his father.

Now he could.

And god, the very word still felt unfamiliar. The idea of it, that he had a 'father' now…

He wondered about the future. How would things be different now? Because they would inevitably change. Would it be a slow and difficult trek to make the Whitebeard Pirates accept him after he’d spent so long trying to kill their Captain, their father? Or would he be dragged right into the depths of their lives, loved like a brother the way he had been promised?

He wouldn’t be working towards Whitebeard’s demise anymore, that was for sure. What would he even do all day? His assassination attempts had been a full-time occupation, busying his mind and his body equally.

God, but he’d been stupid. And so damn full of himself. Enough people had told him not to get carried away, that achieving something doesn’t mean he can achieve anything. He still had a long way to go, what devil had made him believe he could take down the strongest man on the sea?

Overeagerness, and that stupid drive to prove he could be better than _him_. But that same hotheadedness had resulted in many a mistake before.

And what a mistake it was, this time.

Yet, maybe it could turn into something good. He had promised Luffy not to live with any regrets. And, deep down, he knew he was not going to regret this decision.

He was blown out of his thoughts when a sudden gust of wind startled him from behind. He leaned against the rail defensively , because he knew enough of Grand Line’s insane weather to be weary. Ducking his head and squaring his shoulders wasn’t the best course of action, though, because it caused him to jerk from the sharp pain in his back. And that, in turn, lead to his hat being blown right off of his head.

"Shit!"

_'Here!'_

_'What's that, Luffy?'_

_'It's a hat, of course!'_

_'Why are you giving it to me?'_

_'Because I have one, and Sabo had one, and you're the only one who doesn't! Besides, you should smile more, just like this!'_

_‘… Did you seriously steal Dadan’s beads to make this?’_

His hand stretched forward and he leaned over the railing as far as he could, but the damn wind was taking it over the sea. He wasn't fucking losing that hat! He heaved himself up and a booted foot landed on the railing. If he kicked off hard enough he might be able to grab it. And then fall into the sea.

Fuck, he’d figure something out when he had the hat!

He was just about to boost himself off the side of the Mobi, when he heard:

"Stay put!"

Ace usually disregarded orders on principle. He went off to sea to be free, damn it! But there was something very authoritative in that voice and it made him still, almost on instinct, if just for a moment. That moment proved to be enough to hold his entirely foolish rescue plan for his hat, because within that moment something shot past him like a bullet, showering everything in a soft blue light, and he was _lost_.

Ace stared boggle-eyed at what looked like a ball of fire. With wings. And a tail. And a long neck with a head and a beak and-

A bird. The word he was looking for was bird. Only, generally, birds weren’t covered by blue flames, were they? Not as far as Ace knew, at least.

The fire was breathtaking. It fluttered fast and wild with the creature’s speed, wrapping around the wings and licking at its body. It threw a bright light that dyed everything within sight in soft blue, as if the bird was claiming all that was in its presence as a part of itself. With the speed it was moving at, Ace would think it should be beating its wings furiously, but instead they were moving with slow motions that spoke of absolute control.

The entirety of it blazed with those enchanting flames, and as it ducked low over the water, its burning wings rippled the waves and distorted the silhouette dancing over them. In one smooth motion it dove towards the falling hat and caught it with its beak, turning in a show of elegance and power, as its strong wings propelled it high over the surface with a single beat, the spiraling fire of its tail just barely brushing the water.

Ace stumbled backwards as the bird turned towards him and feeling a burn in his lungs, suddenly remembered to breathe. The creature lingered in the air over the deck just for a few moments, painting everything in its light.

Only then did Ace get a chance to see the whole of it. The entire body was covered by those bright blue flames and their dance in the night breeze was hypnotizing. Two darker blue rings surrounded eyes which looked at him in a distressingly familiar manner. Its chest was covered in an unmistakable mark in that same darker color, and the entire bird seemed to puff up in pride when his eyes focused on it.

Realization clicked in Ace’s mind.

"Ma-Marco?" He stammered in disbelief.

As the bird descended towards the surface of the ship, it started changing. The flames retreated to reveal human legs with dark sandals strapped around the ankles. As they landed on the deck with barely a sound, a wing traveled towards Ace’s hat, still clutched in the bird’s beak. The wing shifted into a hand and grasped it, before the fire flicked once more and vanished into thin air all at once, leaving the figure of the First Division Commander standing tall before him.

He watched in a daze as the other man drew closer and put the hat back on his head with flourish.

"You better keep your things safe, eh," Marco said as he walked past him and made to head below deck.

"What was that?" Ace whirled around and watched him pause and face him again, hands in pockets and a bored expression adorning his face.

"What did it look like?" He raised a brow. "A Devil Fruit's ability, obviously. They don't call me 'The Phoenix' for nothing, eh.” And then he was on his way again.

A _phoenix_. Ace threw himself into ridiculous amounts of research, composed of subtly asking every person on the crew, and even walking into a bookstore the next time they hit shore. What he came up with, was that a phoenix was a mythical creature in the form of a bird that upon death would burst into flames, and then rise from its own ashes. Everything told him that it was a powerful immortal being, but Ace thought that above all, it was beautiful.

Ace found himself so taken in by it that he couldn't stop thinking about it. Within a week he was falling head-first into obsession and loving every second of the fall.

He started following Marco around, discreetly thank you very much, waiting for a chance to catch a glimpse of the phoenix again. But Ace was not a patient man, and when that didn't get him anywhere for two whole days, he decided he needed to provoke Marco into shifting.

His own Devil Fruit had been pretty nicely integrated within his instincts, so naturally, he decided it must be the same with Marco. Meaning, if he caught him off guard, he should slip and turn, and Ace would get to see that form again. So he started doing ridiculously clumsy things regularly when he was around Marco, like dropping things, or ‘accidentally’ walking into him. When that didn’t work, he went as far as to start pouncing on him and hugging the life out of him every time he saw Marco, trying to surprise him into letting out some flames.

But nothing seemed to work. Marco was entirely unfazed by his insanity, never as much as flinching even when Ace managed to trip and land his entire plate of food right into the First Division Commander’s lap (that one had been an _actual_ accident). He never lost his unruffled façade, never more than quirked an eyebrow and squeezed Ace back warmly when he was tackled into a hug.

As time passed, Ace got more desperate. His dreams were blue-tinged and burning, his thoughts occupied by the memory of it all the time. He wanted to touch that blue flame, wanted to bathe into its cool light, wanted to know what the body below the fire felt like, wanted to see and feel and understand all of it.

And when they docked at a small island under Pops’ protection, he decided that desperate times call for desperate measures, and asked Marco to spar with him He would surely have to use his Devil Fruit in a fight against Ace, not even Pops’ second could face him without taking damage, could he?

The one thing he didn’t expect was Marco turning him down, because, of all things, he didn’t want to hurt Ace.

Pride smarting, and annoyance bubbling over another failure, Ace stomped out of the ongoing party in the local tavern and decided he should walk his frustration off before he set something on fire just to watch it burn. He stalked through the quiet streets of the small town, and before long his feet took him to a secluded beach.

Ace found it strange that even now, years after he’d eaten his Devil Fruit, the sea still drew him in. It might be his biggest weakness, but the smell of salt in the air never made him cautious or uncomfortable. He loved it and found peace in it, and as he sat on the sand he found the song of its waves calming him slowly. He lost himself in the horizon where sea and sky met into an eternity of sparkling stars spread across the darkness and thought about nothing of consequence.

After a while the night breeze carried the soft tap-tap of footsteps to him, and Ace found himself slowly sinking back into reality. He didn’t need to look back to know who was closing in, and as the quiet sound stopped barely a few feet behind him, he made no effort to acknowledge the presence.

Another few moments passed in quiet contemplation, and Ace couldn’t shake the feeling of a gaze heavy with evaluation and silent thought weighing on his back. He refused to fidget or tense up, sitting as he had been, back straight with pride.

Then, the man behind him spoke up.

"So what's all this about, then?"

Ace let himself drop back, planting his elbows on the sand, and tilted his head back to stare Marco upside-down with a raised (or lowered, depending on the point of view) eyebrow.

"What's all what about?"

"Don’t play dumb, eh," there was a touch of mirth in the usually bored gaze fixed on him and Ace had to work not to appear giddy at the attention. "Half the ship's already taking bets weather you'd jump me now or wait for the next appropriate moment."

"Oh, yeah?" Ace couldn't help the smirk that stretched over his features. He wasn’t really surprised, but it was curious how unaffected Marco appeared. "What did you bet on?"

"Wouldn't you want to know?" The First Division Commander answered him with a grin of his own.

Ace stuck his tongue out playfully, but then quickly pushed himself up to a sitting position and turned towards the older pirate. He’d had just about all he could take of dancing around Marco with nothing to show for it. There was something he wanted and if there was one thing Ace knew how to do, it was to go after the things he wanted.

"Show me!" He said, his voice betraying the excitement building in his chest. "I want to see that form again! Show it to me, Marco, please!"

"That's all?" The other eyed him curiously a moment longer, then seemed to find his answer in Ace’s eyes. A lazy smirk played with his lips, as he shrugged. "Alright, eh."

Not a second too late blue flames started to lick at his skin, flickering at the soft breeze, before they engulfed his entire figure, broad wings spreading on both sides of the blazing form.

A thrill ran through Ace's entire body at the sight of the creature before him once again. Better than any dream and more tangible than any memory, its blue flames flickered shadows on the sand in every direction. Ace’s breath hitched at the sight, and before he knew it he had scrambled over the distance and was reaching a hand towards the long neck.

His fingers passed through cool fire that felt like thick smoke, whispers of almost-tangible touches against his fingers. A lick of blue flame seemed to wrap around his wrist and he paused, mesmerized as he watched it flicker over his skin, its path lingering just on the edge of his perception.

When he finally laid his hand on the body beneath, the feathers were soft and smooth, growing longer the further down the wing he went. Delicate, yet strong, a strange combination that made him even more fascinated.

"Grab on, eh."

The words almost made him jump as his brain struggled against the dissonance between the mystical form before him and the voice from his everyday life. And as his already reeling brain struggled with comprehension, a distinctly unintelligent “Huh?” made it past his lips.

Ace was pretty certain birds shouldn’t be capable of laughter, but that was most definitely a laugh. Maybe it was a phoenix thing? Or just a Marco thing, his finally rebooted mind supplied, because this was Marco, not some spectacular flaming creature, but no, actually, this was Marco who _was_ a spectacular flaming creature with the most mesmerizing flames that Ace had ever laid his eyes on, and Ace had seen a lot of fire in his life, and-

He snapped back to attention, when the body under his hand moved, blinking rapidly in an effort not to let his thoughts wonder again. Before he knew it, he was blinking at the Zoan’s back and he watched with rapt attention as the wings opened and spread on either side of him. Marco had a ridiculously wide wingspan, he thought dazedly, as he felt like all he could see was fire the color of a clear sky.

Then the long neck shifted and there was invitation in the tilt of his head, the look in his eyes. And Ace’s scrambled mind finally clicked the earlier offer into place and he felt like he could fly out of his own skin with excitement. Marco would really let him? The grin stretched so wide over his face it physically hurt.

Then, almost afraid the First Division Commander would take the offer back, he flung his arms around the long neck, locking them tight as his torso rested against soft feathers and dancing flames.

One flap from the powerful wings and they were separated from the ground. One more and they were floating over the sand, then the sea, and then higher and higher until Ace could no longer say which way was down. All he knew in that moment was the wind in his hair and the blue flames against his face.

Flying was like nothing he had ever experienced before. Perhaps the closest he had known was riding his skiff on a stretching piece of sea on a sunny day. Nothing but salt-heavy air and the blue of the sky above. His entire world would fall away, until there was nothing but that one moment in which he was moving yet stationary, with the breeze in his hair and laughter in his chest. Freedom.

Yes. Flying was freedom. Complete and unmeasurable. There were the stars in the sky above him, and their reflections in the waves below him, and those soft flicking flames surrounding him. And he closed his eyes, buried his face in the warm feathers beneath him and laughed. Laughed, because he was weightless and he was riding on the back of the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Laughed, because he was on top of the world and he could feel his heart thumping with the joy of it. Laughed, because he was free and there was no other sensation in the world that could rival the novelty and beauty of this.

Laughed, until he felt dizzy with it. Laughed, until there was no breath in his lungs. Laughed, until he didn’t remember anything other than laughing.

And then, just because he was happy, he laughed some more.

And even when the sound of the crashing waves brought him back from his euphoria, the smile remained, wide and unrepentant, and his heart danced with it.

He looked down and saw flames reflected into restless waves, and not long after, blue-painted sand, and he knew this little trip was over. But even then the elation remained, singing through his veins like a drug, lighting him from the inside. Even when Marco landed – graceful, always so graceful when he was like this – and Ace grudgingly released him, his mind was so far into the clouds that his feet were shaky and useless and dumped him on the sand.

"That was…" He tried, he really did, but there were no words, no way to explain how brilliant that had been.

"You liked it?" He could barely manage a nod, still feeling the ground unsteady beneath him, before the voice spoke from much closer. "That's good, eh."

And then Marco was right there, practically on top of him, pressing into him with blue flames still licking up his shoulders. He had invaded Ace’s space, so close and tangible and _there_ , one hand rested on the sand for support, and one coming up to cup his face. And then, then…

Then there was _no_ space between them. Then, there were Marco’s lips on his own, soft and warm and endlessly gentle. Ace’s mind, having just barely returned after the flight, was envelope by another fog, this one sweeter and more anticipated, more familiar.

Ace pushed back against the light pressure, drew himself closer and hummed contentedly, because no, he hadn’t expected this, but he’d wanted it. Weeks of keeping close tabs on Marco had made him privy to the man’s life like simple cohabitation never would have. He’d seen Marco’s character more clearly than he ever would have, if it hadn’t been for his tiny obsession.

He’d seen how Marco was always the first to rise, and more often than not the last to rest. He’d seen Marco’s easygoing and laidback attitude put everyone around at ease and helped keep the peace on the overpopulated crew. He’d seen how Marco always seemed to know exactly what was happening, and exactly who was involved, no matter the situation.

And he’d seen him flushed with booze and fresh from a bath. He’d seen him soaking from rain and splattered with blood from a fight. He’d seen him lounging around in relaxation, and he’d seen him on high alert.

In those few weeks, he felt like he’d seen more of Marco than most people get to see for a long time.

An instead of sating his curiosity, it had made him more thirsty for knowledge. He wanted to know more about Marco – he wanted to know the most irrelevant things, and he wanted to know his big secrets.

But all of that could wait. For now he just wanted to feel Marco pressed so close to him they could come together.

He threw his arms around the older man’s neck, in a way not dissimilar to how he’d done earlier, and held on tight. His lips parted, and instantly he could taste the salty air on Marco’s tongue, and it was the best thing he had ever known. And, damn, but Marco knew how to kiss. His slow approach had been completely forgotten, and instead he was pursuing what he wanted with a vigor that had Ace’s toes curling.

Falling back, he pulled the older man after him and lost what breath Marco hadn’t stolen from him into a needy gasp when their bare chests pressed together. And even when Marco went to pull back, Ace, panting and all but begging for it, chased after him as far as he could.

"Well, I guess I just won 100 bellies from Thatch, eh," Marco grinned easily, and mirth danced in Ace’s chest to match that in his eyes.

"Oh? But wasn't the bet on when _I_ would jump _you_? This turned out the other way around, didn't it?" He teased, running his hands under Marco’s shirt. Damn, the man had some very muscled shoulders. Was this because of the wings?

"Only if they find out," came the smug reply, as Marco’s lids lowered in pleasure at Ace’s explorations.

"That's not fair, you know," Ace laughed.

"We're pirates, eh. Who said we're playing fair?"

With that he made to move away from Ace, but if he thought that was all for tonight, he had another thing coming. Ace surged forward with all the speed he had, and successfully toppled the older man backwards, reversing their positions with a mischievous grin on his face. The quirked eyebrow he received in answer was distinctly amused.

" _Now_ , you've won the bet.”

And with that, he was on Marco, kissing him with all the enthusiasm and sparkling energy that was still dancing under his skin, pouring all of his delight at the night’s events into it. He never once pulled his hands away from Marco’s skin, loving the raise of goosebumps under his fingertips and the ripple of muscles under his palms. His skin turned hot when he felt the moan building up in the man under him, excitement and arousal fighting for attention.

Marco’s hands landed on his hips and the man gave as good as he got, arching up under Ace and pressing them together, tongue moving with Ace’s own, teeth clicking in the fevered rush. But when he centered his shoulders better on the sand, and when he shifted his own hips just that little bit, Ace knew what he wanted to do and he decided he would have none of it.

Pulling back with no warning, he grabbed the hands from his own body and pressed them on the ground on either side of Marco’s head, grinning down at him in triumph. And, yes, Marco was stronger than him, and he could break the hold with ease, but Ace had another ace up his sleeve (ha!) and he wasn’t afraid to use it.

So when the First Division Commander moved to break free, Ace shifted his palm into fire, delighting in the sharp intake of breath from the man trapped beneath him.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," he said teasingly, but just as he was about to gloat some more, a flicker caught his eye.

His hand, which was still merrily burning away, was suddenly surrounded by blue flames, the dance of their abilities side by side stealing his breath once more. It wasn’t just his flames and Marco’s next to each other, they were shifting blue-into-red-into-blue, feeding each other and the dance of it was hypnotic.

Then, Marco, because he knew how to exploit weaknesses and was secretly a competitive shit on top of everything else, shifted his entire arm into a wing and swung with enough force to have them tumbling down the sand, crimson and azure flames merging into a fireball that threw flickering shadows over the entire beach.

When, a few breathless minutes later, the rolling finally came to an end, Ace was just about to proclaim victory, when he was shoved off of Marco’s thighs and right into the sea. The initial instinct of panic had him flailing arms and feet desperately, but moments later he sat up and realized the water was barely up to his waist, waves gently lapping at his sides.

And on the wet sand beside the water, Marco had his head thrown back, a full-throated jovial laugh shaking his form. Ace really, really wanted to be pissed at him, but he wasn’t a bad enough loser to miss the genuine hilarity of the situation.

It didn’t take long before his own laughter was ringing in the night, the sound of their voices merging as seamlessly as their fire had.

**Author's Note:**

> Ace is the only one who thinks he was subtle or discreet with the crew, when all he could ever talk about was blue fire and he wouldn't stop stalking Marco. Also, the bookstore was a bust.


End file.
